New Poem -- I, Too

I, Too

I, too, know why the caged bird sings,

But I only know it second hand

Like so many other histories

I can only experience in newsreels

And in books and in podcasts.

I, too, realize my arm's too short

To box with God, but instead of striving,

I concede and step out of the ring.

Where James Weldon Johnson

Chose to stand and fight.

I, too, select my own society,

But I keep it on the down low

Try not to fret about it in verse

As if doing so might legitimize

The act of hiding into saintliness.

I, too, have learned that April

Can indeed be the cruelest month

But I have a front door with a lock

So April has to stay outside

Where it can't come in and harm me.

I, too,  know the explosive power

Of deferring a dream past its sell date,

Of watching good meat spoil

All the while aware that my dream

Is a far different, far more entitled, one.

But, I, too, continue to write

Because of the little bits of all I've read

That remain to live in me,

Even if those remnants mutate

Into something less like the original

And more like me.

Motivational Monday: Welty Resolves It as Art

Eudora Welty

Motivational Monday: The Job of an Artist

Motivational Monday: Disturbing the Peace

Slicing the Pie: Art. Craft. Technique. Style.

Hey, writer types! For the next (next-next, actually) roundtable, let's talk about art, craft, technique, and style. For some these four words may be synonyms. For others, they may be different ways of slicing the same pie. For still others, they may have start differences between them. If you're familiar with my basic interview questions, you'll remember this one: "Where would you rank writing on the "Is it an art or it is a science continuum?" Let's all discuss that together, shall we?

What does art, craft, technique, and style mean to you? 

Paul Landri: Writing is absolutely an art. However much like cooking, if you don't have a technique for the dish, you'll find people spitting out your food into their napkins or feeding it to the dog.

I don't think I have a particular style, but if you read my work you'll see the influence of the old Del Rey Star Wars Novels are pervasive throughout my books. I cut my teeth on those books when I was in the 7th grade and that style of writing comes out a lot even after all these years and countless other novels I've read that have influenced my writing.

I'm very conversational in tone, as I am sure you can read here. I find it allows the reader ease of access. I feel like you can be verbose but only as long as your still engaging the reader and drawing them in.

Sheela Chattopadhyay: I would rank writing as both an art and a science, rather than keeping the continuum as a straight line. It's more of a circle with each moment of writing blending both art and science together in different proportions as needed. This is from my experience in other types of writing and communications over the years in different disciplines.

Bobby Nash: Art is the part that comes out of me naturally, I think. It’s the raw, creative part. Craft is the work. I work on getting better at my craft. Technique is how I handle the craft. These are the tricks and learned odds 'n ends. Style is how I merge art, craft, and technique.

Or I could be completely wrong. This is honestly the most thought I’ve put into these definitions ever.

Ef Deal: Dead honest here: I don't really know how to address the question so far as distinctions. I will say that craft deals with structure. Art deals with the methods you use to evoke a mood: the use of language and poetic devices, for example. Style has a lot to do with your own voice as you select your words. I have no idea how to define technique in this sense. Does it mean one's approach to crafting a story? Plotter or Pantser? No clue.

Motivational Monday: Art Goes To Work

I Made ChaptGPT Write This Article (Part 1)

AI (or straight-up theft, as some call it and perhaps rightly so in many cases) is a huge topic for creators of all types currently, from artists to writers to ideation generators. So, rather than just making assumptions, I figured I'd actually look at (what the programmers call) the tool and see what it can do and what it can't. This is that experiment. 

The Article

Prompt: Writer a tutorial for authors on how to use AI for creating elements to add to their fictional stories. 

Title: Harnessing the Power of AI:
A Guide for Authors to Enhance Fictional Stories

Introduction:

In recent years, artificial intelligence (AI) has become a powerful tool for various creative endeavors. Authors can leverage AI to enhance their fictional stories by generating elements such as characters, settings, plot ideas, and even dialogue. This tutorial aims to provide authors with a step-by-step guide on how to effectively use AI in their storytelling process.

Step 1: Define Your Story's Parameters

Before diving into the AI-assisted creation process, clearly define the parameters of your story. Determine the genre, setting, time period, and the general themes you want to explore. This will help guide the AI models and ensure that the generated elements align with your creative vision.

Step 2: Gather AI Tools and Platforms

Research and identify AI tools and platforms that cater to creative writing. There are various options available, such as OpenAI's GPT-3, which can generate text based on prompts, or other AI-driven platforms like ChatGPT, AI Dungeon, or even specialized writing software like Novelize. Explore different options to find the one that suits your needs best.

Step 3: Generating Characters and Settings

To create unique and compelling characters, provide the AI model with basic information about their background, appearance, personality traits, and goals. Experiment with different prompts, variations, and details until you find a character that resonates with your story. AI can also assist in generating imaginative settings by providing vivid descriptions or even suggesting unusual combinations.

Step 4: Developing Plot Ideas

AI can be a valuable resource for brainstorming plot ideas. Utilize the AI model by providing it with a summary of your story concept or specific plot points you want to explore. The AI can then generate alternative plotlines, twists, or even help you overcome writer's block by suggesting new directions.

Step 5: Enhancing Dialogue

Dialogue is a crucial element of any story. Use AI to generate realistic and engaging conversations between characters. Prompt the AI with the character names and their respective roles in the scene. Experiment with different dialogue options and refine them to fit the character's unique voice and personality.

Step 6: Editing and Integration

Once you have generated AI-generated elements, it's important to edit and refine them to align with your vision. AI-generated content might not always be perfect, so review and polish the generated text as needed. Ensure that the generated elements seamlessly integrate with your overall story and writing style.

Step 7: Maintaining Originality

While AI can provide valuable inspiration and assistance, it's crucial to maintain your originality as an author. Use AI as a tool to enhance your creativity, but remember that your unique voice and storytelling abilities are what make your work special. Use AI-generated content as a springboard for your imagination rather than relying solely on it.

Conclusion:

Integrating AI into the creative writing process can be a powerful tool for authors seeking inspiration, new ideas, and unique story elements. By following this guide, authors can effectively utilize AI to generate characters, settings, plot ideas, and dialogue that align with their creative vision. Remember to experiment, refine, and maintain your unique voice throughout the process. Embrace the possibilities that AI offers while staying true to your own storytelling abilities. Happy writing!

-----------------------------

The Story

Using these guidelines given by ChatGPT, I provided the following prompt:

Write a short story based on two characters confronting each other about one poisoning the other one's husband. The character who lost her husband to poison is a woman who used to be a spy for the CIA. The other character is her former boss, a power-hungry man with ties to foreign governments. He poisoned her husband to make her single again so she would be free to get back into the spy business. But she doesn't want to be a spy because he had a religious experience and is now a pacifist. The former spy speaks with an eloquent, well-studied vocabulary of a former literature major. The poisoner speaks with a Southern accent. 

Here's the story it wrote. 

The sun began its descent, casting long shadows across the secluded cabin where the confrontation was about to unfold. In a room dimly lit by a flickering oil lamp, two figures faced each other. Eleanor Sinclair, once a brilliant spy for the CIA, stood tall and resolute. Her piercing blue eyes glimmered with a mix of pain and determination. Across from her, stood her former boss, Richard McClusky, a man with a cunning smile and a southern drawl that dripped with insincerity.

"Richard," Eleanor began, her voice measured and commanding. "You've gone too far this time. Poisoning my husband, all to manipulate me back into the spy business. Is that the extent of your ambition?"

Richard chuckled, his eyes glinting with a mixture of amusement and arrogance. "Now, Ellie, darlin', don't go actin' all high and mighty on me. You know we were the best team the CIA ever had. We can't let a little thing like love get in the way of duty."

Eleanor's eyes narrowed. "Love? Is that what you think this is about? You have no understanding of what love truly means. You've always been driven by power and control."

Richard leaned against the cabin's rustic wooden table, a smirk playing on his lips. "Well, maybe I just know you better than you know yourself, Ellie. I thought you might miss the thrill of the chase, the adrenaline coursing through your veins. Besides, you were always a damn good spy."

Eleanor's voice remained firm, her gaze unyielding. "I was a good spy because I believed in something greater than power and control. I believed in protecting innocent lives and fighting for justice. But things have changed, Richard. I've changed."

Richard's smirk faded, replaced by a scowl. "Changed? You? Don't tell me you've gone all soft and religious on me now, Ellie."

A glimmer of defiance danced in Eleanor's eyes. "I may have found faith, Richard, but it's not about being soft. It's about finding a higher purpose, a way to make the world a better place without resorting to violence and manipulation. I've seen enough bloodshed."

Richard scoffed, his southern accent becoming more pronounced. "Faith? Higher purpose? That's all hogwash, Ellie. You think you can just walk away from who you were? You're throwing away your skills, your talents, and for what? Some airy-fairy notion of peace?"

Eleanor straightened her back, a fire burning in her words. "You were never one for understanding the depths of the human soul, Richard. My skills can be used for good without sacrificing my newfound convictions. I will find a way to make a difference without resorting to the darkness you embrace."

Richard's face contorted with anger, his voice venomous. "You can try, Ellie, but you'll never escape the shadows. You'll always be a spy at heart."

Eleanor's voice softened, carrying a steely resolve. "Perhaps, Richard, but I choose to define my own path now. And it won't be one stained with the poison of betrayal and manipulation."

With those words, Eleanor turned and walked away, leaving Richard seething in the dimly lit cabin. As the cabin door closed behind her, Eleanor felt a newfound strength within her. The path ahead was uncertain, but she was determined to forge a new destiny—one that embraced her faith, her convictions, and the power of love. And as she stepped into the fading sunlight, she knew that the shadows of her past would never define her again.

-----------------------------

Not happy with it, I regenerated to get the following response.

Amelia Harrington, a woman who once moved in the shadows of espionage as a cunning CIA spy, now found herself face-to-face with her former boss, Harold McAllister. A man driven by power and manipulation, he had crossed a line that would forever alter their relationship.

Amelia, clad in a black suit that concealed her emotions, stood tall with an air of refined grace. Her piercing blue eyes, once filled with intrigue and adventure, now held a deep sadness. Harold, in his tailored gray suit, wore a smug expression as he leaned against the mahogany desk in his lavish office.

"Harold," Amelia began, her voice composed and measured, "you've always been a man of ambition, but this? This act of treachery, poisoning my husband to further your own twisted agenda, it's beyond comprehension."

Harold's gravelly voice laced with a southern drawl responded, "Amelia, darlin', I did what had to be done. You were meant for greatness, back in the field, where you excelled. Your skills were wasted on domestic life. I only sought to set you free."

Amelia's voice quivered with restrained anger, her cultured vocabulary clashing with Harold's Southern dialect. "Free? You dare speak of freedom when you ripped away the man I loved? I had left that life behind, Harold. A religious awakening had shown me the path of peace, and you thought you could manipulate me into becoming your pawn again."

Harold chuckled, a sound filled with smug arrogance. "Pacifism? That's all well and good, sugar, but you were made for this world. The thrill of the chase, the adrenaline of espionage—nothing can replace it. I did you a favor, breaking those chains of domesticity."

Amelia took a deep breath, regaining her composure. "You know nothing of my journey, Harold. My past, my present, and my future are mine to shape. I refuse to be dictated by your warped ideals. I have chosen a different path—one of compassion, understanding, and peace."

The room fell into a tense silence as their opposing ideologies clashed. Amelia's eyes glistened with unshed tears, and Harold's face contorted with a mix of frustration and disbelief.

"You were my prized agent, Amelia. The best I ever had," Harold whispered, his voice betraying a hint of regret.

Amelia's voice softened, carrying a hint of melancholy. "And you were my mentor, Harold. I respected you, even admired you. But you've lost your way, consumed by a hunger for power that blinds you to the lives you destroy."

Harold's gaze dropped to the floor as a heavy silence enveloped them once more. After a moment, he looked up, his eyes filled with a flicker of remorse. "I never meant to cause you such pain, Amelia. I thought I was doing what was best."

Amelia's expression softened, a flicker of forgiveness shining through her sorrow. "Sometimes, the road to redemption begins with acknowledging our mistakes, Harold. I hope you find that path one day."

With those final words, Amelia turned on her heel and walked away, leaving Harold to grapple with the consequences of his actions. As she stepped out into the world, her heart heavy with loss, she carried within her the strength of a woman who had found her true purpose—a purpose defined not by shadows and deceit, but by love, compassion, and the unwavering commitment to peace.

-----------------------------

Still not happy, I tweaked the prompt:

Write a short story based on two characters confronting each other about one poisoning the other one's husband. The character who lost her husband to poison is a woman who used to be a spy for the CIA. The other character is her former boss, a power-hungry man with ties to foreign governments. He poisoned her husband to make her single again so she would be free to get back into the spy business. But she doesn't want to be a spy because he had a religious experience and is now a pacifist. The former spy speaks with an eloquent, well-studied vocabulary of a former literature major. The poisoner speaks with a Southern accent. Here's the big reveal. The woman doesn't have proof that her former boss is the one who poisoned her husband, but she is using this confrontation to discover proof. 

The dimly lit room crackled with tension as Catherine Sinclair, a woman with a past shrouded in secrecy, confronted her former boss, Robert "Bobby" Thompson. A man known for his insatiable hunger for power, he exuded an air of confidence that belied the darkness that lay beneath.

Catherine, her emerald eyes filled with a mix of grief and determination, stood before Bobby, her voice steady and composed. Her words were imbued with the eloquence of a literature major, each syllable carefully chosen.

"Bobby, I stand here today, not just as a grieving widow, but as a woman seeking the truth. My husband's death, the poison that claimed his life—it haunts me. And I can't help but wonder if your shadow looms behind it all," Catherine uttered, her voice laced with restrained accusation.

Bobby, leaning against a weathered wooden desk, responded with a southern drawl that resonated through the room. "Now, Catherine, darlin', you can't prove nothin'. It's all just wild accusations with nothin' to back it up. You're graspin' at straws."

Catherine's gaze locked with Bobby's, a fierce determination replacing her initial grief. "You underestimate me, Bobby. I may not have concrete evidence just yet, but I am here to unravel the truth. To peel back the layers of deceit until I expose the darkness that festers within."

Bobby chuckled, his voice tinged with a hint of menace. "You always did have a flair for the dramatic, Catherine. But what good is the truth without proof? You can't touch me without evidence."

Catherine smiled, a glimmer of cunning dancing in her eyes. "Ah, Bobby, you've always been a step ahead—or so you thought. But you see, this confrontation serves a dual purpose. Not only am I here to uncover the truth, but I also aim to obtain the evidence that will condemn you."

Bobby's face contorted with surprise, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. "And how do you plan to achieve that, Catherine? You may be resourceful, but I assure you, you won't find a shred of evidence that connects me to your husband's demise."

Catherine's smile grew wider as she produced a small recording device from her pocket, revealing her hidden ace. "You see, Bobby, I have become well-versed in the art of patience. And during my mourning, I stumbled upon conversations, whispers of secrets shared within the shadows."

She pressed play, and the room filled with the voice of Bobby, unmistakably confessing his role in the poisoning. Shock painted his face, his earlier confidence crumbling.

"You underestimated me, Bobby. But I learned from the best, didn't I? Your own arrogance proved to be your downfall," Catherine spoke, her voice a velvet-laced triumph.

Bobby, no longer able to maintain his facade, slumped into a chair, defeated. "I never wanted it to end like this, Catherine. I only wanted to free you, so you could embrace the life you were meant for—the life of a spy."

Catherine's voice softened, a mix of sadness and resolve filling the air. "I have changed, Bobby. I no longer yearn for the shadows or the machinations of power. I have found solace in a different path—a path of peace, compassion, and a desire to heal the world."

With those words, Catherine turned to leave, leaving Bobby to wrestle with his own demons. She had not only confronted her former boss but had obtained the proof she needed to bring justice to her husband's memory. In that room, the strength of her resolve and the weight of her loss forged an unyielding spirit—one that would not be silenced until truth prevailed.

-----------------------------

Getting a wicked thought, I added one more tweak:

Write a short story based on two characters confronting each other over tea about one poisoning the other one's husband. The character who lost her husband to poison is a woman who used to be a spy for the CIA. The other character is her former boss, a power-hungry man with ties to foreign governments. He poisoned her husband to make her single again so she would be free to get back into the spy business. But she doesn't want to be a spy because he had a religious experience and is now a pacifist. The former spy speaks with an eloquent, well-studied vocabulary of a former literature major. The poisoner speaks with a Southern accent. Here's the big reveal. The woman doesn't have proof that her former boss is the one who poisoned her husband, but she is using this confrontation to discover proof. As she leaves her former boss, she asks him how he enjoyed the tea he has been drinking, implying that it too may be poisoned and he may just be paying for his crime sooner than expected. Then she leaves to visit her husband's grave to grieve. 

The quaint tea room exuded an air of elegance as Helen Montgomery, a woman burdened by grief, sat across from her former boss, Reginald "Reggie" Jenkins. Reggie, a man driven by ambition and hidden agendas, appeared relaxed as he sipped his tea, his Southern drawl filling the air.

Helen, her voice adorned with the refined grace of a literature major, spoke with a mix of sorrow and determination. "Reggie, we find ourselves here today, not as friends, but as adversaries. The death of my beloved husband, the poison that stole his life—I can't help but wonder if your hands bear the stain of guilt."

Reggie smirked, leaning back in his chair. "Now, Helen, darlin', you can't go 'round accusin' me without a lick of evidence. It's all just wild speculation. You're clutchin' at straws."

Helen's eyes bore into Reggie's, a flicker of intrigue illuminating her gaze. "Ah, Reggie, the art of subtlety was never your strong suit. You see, this confrontation serves a purpose beyond mere accusations. I seek not only the truth but also the opportunity to uncover the proof that will condemn you."

Reggie's confidence wavered as Helen's words lingered in the air, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. "What are you playin' at, Helen? You won't find anythin' that ties me to your husband's demise. It's a fool's errand."

Helen smiled, a hint of mystery dancing upon her lips. "You underestimate me, Reggie. I've learned to adapt and survive in a world of secrets. As we sit here, enjoying our tea, I wonder, how do you find the flavor? Refreshing? Perhaps with a hint of something more."

Reggie's facade crumbled as panic coursed through his veins. "What have you done?" he stammered, his voice betraying his fear.

Helen's eyes gleamed with a mix of vengeance and satisfaction. "Oh, Reggie, did you not realize the tables had turned? While I lack the concrete evidence to expose you fully, I found solace in planting a seed of doubt. You may be paying for your crimes sooner than expected."

As Helen rose from her seat, Reggie's trembling hands clutched the teacup before him, his once-confident demeanor now shattered. He watched in silence as she left the tea room, leaving him to grapple with his own guilt and the uncertainty of his fate.

Outside, Helen made her way to her husband's grave, her heart heavy with grief and the weight of unfinished justice. She whispered her final goodbyes, finding solace in the quiet serenity of the cemetery.

The wind carried her words as if to comfort her, as she turned away, leaving behind the ghosts of her past. Reggie's destiny remained uncertain, a consequence he would forever face in the realm of doubt and suspicion. For Helen, her path was clear—to carry her husband's memory and find her own peace in a world slowly healing from the wounds of betrayal.

In Part 2, we'll actually analyze how well this met the criteria and use Google-Fu to see what information out there in Internet-Land got ripped off.

Movie Reviews for Writers: Throw Momma from the Train

Let's just kick this off by saying that a comedy based on Strangers on a Train was inspired. And then to cast Danny DeVito and Billy Crystal in the lead roles was pure genius. It doesn't even matter that they don't try to hide the inspiration material. 

But as awesome as all that is, to then make them both writers who are foils of each other though both with the same problem ultimately (and not the people they need killed, but the writing problem) is what really makes this movie shine. 

Larry is a college professor whose ex-wife stole his book and published it under her name. Owen is a student in Larry's creative writing class who is under the thumb of his domineering mother. Neither can write anything worth reading at the moment. Larry is too stymied by jealousy, resentment, and the lofty pursuit of Art with a capital "A." Owen has a vivid imagination and loads of passion but no grasp of the fundamentals of telling a story. One can put lots of badly strung together words on paper. The other can't get past the first sentence. 

But both attribute (much like the rest of us) their issues to something outside their control rather than something intrinsic to their natures. For Owen it's his mom. For Larry it's his ex-wife. Both are too blind to see they are their own worst enemy. 

So, based on Hitchcock's masterpiece, Owen gets the idea to swap murders so that neither has a motive. Win-win, right? 

But enough about that. Watch the movie for the plot and laugh until your face is lined with laugh lines. I want to look at what these two buffoons have to teach us about writing. 

As mentioned earlier, Larry can't get past his first sentence. 

"The night was..." 

(thunder)

"The night was..."

"The night..."

(grunts)

For Larry, it's not art unless each word is perfectly chosen. The night was humid. No. The night was moist. No. The night was sultry. (Thanks, Mrs. Owen's mom.)

Until he can get that single word right, he can't move on. He is paralyzed and can't move on. For a writing teacher, he apparently never learned the age-old trick of just putting down a word, any word, even a badly chosen, ill-fitting one, and just moving on and coming back to fix it later in the editing stage. 

He even tells Owen later in the movie: 

"That's writing. It's finding the perfect word, the perfect beginning, the perfect start. It was the best of times. It was the worst of times. Now is the winter of our discontent. See what I'm saying? Perfect beginnings. Perfect words."

He's so wrapped up in perfection, he can't (and won't) actually accomplish anything -- particularly anything he couldn't just fix later. 

Rule #1 is always this: Get the damn story out. Tell it now. Turn it into art later if you must. 

It's so strong a drive in him that he even turned down paying work from his agent because he didn't want to merely write. His was the calling to create art. He was an artist. To which his agent responds, "I don't represent artists. I represent writers."

At first glance, this may seem like a callous, profit-driven lens through which to view the writing life, but let's compare it to one of Larry's favorite sayings about writers and the life of telling stories: "Remember, a writer writes, always."

It's an axiom he completely ignores because he can't get out of his own head and his hang-ups about art. So instead, he doesn't writer, always or ever. Not in years. Those gigs, even ones that didn't meet his high standards for true art, would have kept him writing, and that would have most likely jarred him out of his own way and opened up the paths to finishing his stalled novel. 

Moving on, let's look at Owen. Owen's problem isn't that he isn't writing. He's writing all the time, somehow, in spite of his mom's constant demands on his time. "Fix me supper." "Cut my toenails." "You're trying to kill me." 

Owen is living up to the axiom. He's writing, always writing. Only he still hasn't figured out what the real story is. He's so focused on plots that he ignores story. Sadly, though, he's got the imagination for it. That's clearly seen in his vivid daydreams about how he'd snuff the life out of Momma. An eye for excruciating, visceral detail, in fact. 

And he understands the heart of story too. He just hasn't yet applied it to his own tales. For example, when showing off his coin collection to Larry, he brings out coins that don't appear to have any special value, at least none that Larry would associate with a typical coin collection. Just a few nickels, a quarter, a penny, etc. But this is all change from excursions Owen had with his father, and he can tell you the story behind each coin. He gets story better than anyone else in the movie in that sense. 

But like us all, he just needs to marry those inside things with the outside ability to turn words into stories. 

We can learn a lot from both of these buffoons, ultimately.

Great Poetry and Bob Dylan

There is no great religious poetry that does not raise – as
crucial to its enterprise – the question of whether it is open
to the charge of blasphemy, even as there is no great
erotic art that does not raise the question of whether
it is open to the charge of pornography.

– Christopher Ricks, Bob Dylan’s Vision of Sin

Nugget #138 -- Art, By Its Very Nature

Juan Gris: Deutsch: Stilleben mit Bordeuauxflasche 1919

The trouble with our cast in iron disapproval of the new is that 

it doesn't take into account the constantly changing nature of art. 

Art, by its very nature, is re-interpreted by each successive 

generation, and it's our job as old-timers to adjust, not to 

make sure new readers succumb to our interpretations.

#MotivationalMonday -- Art Thou?

[Link] Hey, Your Writing Sucks

by Zarah Parker

Let me explain.

When I first decided to pursue writing seriously (as in, put my all into something that might not give me any return) all I wanted was someone to tell me that I was making the right decision. I didn’t know if I was good enough at writing to make it my career choice.

My entire way of thinking was wrong, but I’ll get back to that.

What I actually needed was someone to tell me my writing sucked. Because it did, and hey sometimes if I’m in a hurry it still does. (I’ve had to delete a few blog posts due to my hastiness.)

Pretending someone is better at something than they are is detrimental to their growth, especially while learning a craft. My biggest pet peeve in workshops is when people are so nice that the person whose work is getting critiqued thinks that their work was great…when it needed a lot of work. I don’t think being rude is the answer, but I think being kind while being honest is.

Which doesn’t happen a lot to young writers. Which might be surprising, but this is my own experience, it could have been different for you. Throughout my college workshops everyone was too scared to point out the flaws in a work, and when they did it was done so nicely that it was more of a ‘maybe you could change this, but you’re fine if you don’t.”

Once, a professor stopped me from commenting on the grammar of a short story. The entire story was atrocious, but I was trying to nicely point out that the grammar was so bad it was hard to read the story. (And to be honest, grammar isn’t on the top of my list to criticize.) I overheard the student later boasting about how much everyone in class loved her story. Because we weren’t honest, she saw no need to fix her story.

Read the full article: https://thememoirofawriter.com/2017/11/30/hey-your-writing-sucks/

Literary Pulp—Why It Makes Sense and How To Write It

by Sean Taylor, with a little help from my friends

Classic pulp is as much known for its black and white, all or nothing characterizations and crammed-to-the-top-with-action plotlines as it is for the cheap paper from which it gets its name—maybe even more so nowadays. So, with that in mind, how does someone like me, who got his start in literary fiction and the three most important words in fiction writing (character, character, and character, of course), grow into the kind of writer who embraces the pulp style of storytelling?

That’s a good question.

But, perhaps the better question is how can someone else do the same?

Because, trust me, there’s a lot of gold to be mined in the odd, little marriage between literary fiction and pulp fiction.

Author Derrick Ferguson sums up the discussion between art and non-art quite well.

“Before I step up on my soapbox and start the pontificating, let me start of by saying that I don’t consider ‘throwaway writing’ to be a bad thing. Robert Heinlein is famous for saying that 90 percent of everything is crap. I think that 90 percent of entertainment is throwaway and disposable. Most people are really just looking for something to entertain and/or distract them from whatever is giving them the grumbles in their life. Of course, the creators of that entertainment hope and pray that it will live on after them. But I find it difficult to believe that the creators of Gomer Pyle, USMC expected or hoped that people would still be watching the show 50 years later.

“And the ability to entertain is not to be taken lightly. I don’t get emails of thanks often, but every so often I will get one from somebody who will thank me because they read something I wrote that transported them away from their problems for a couple of hours, and for me, that’s one of the highest compliments that I can be given.”

Barry Reece

Let’s Get Two Things Straight First

Before we go any further, we should probably lay down the two ground rules that govern this whole shebang in my understanding of it.

#1—Literature doesn’t trump genre.

There are those out there in the market who think that literary means better written and that genre means written for the average idiot. As far as I’m concerned, neither of those thoughts hold any validity. Rather, I believe that the two are simply two different ways of approaching writing that both can learn from each other and help each other out from time to time.

“Great literature isn't great because of its genre or its pace," says author Percival Constantine. "Shakespeare wrote plays for mass consumption, for crying out loud. I defy you to read anything by Vonnegut and call it slow or meandering. There is nothing in any definition of pulp I've ever seen that says the characters must be flat, the prose must be clunky, and the plots must be simple.”

#2—There’s no such reader as the average dum-dum.

Are there smart readers? Yes. Dumb readers? Of course. Average readers? Absolutely.

However, the straw man that some critics and reviewers have created to build a chasm of difference between a Joe Everybody reader and an Artiste McHighbrow reader is pure garbage. I come from a background in Literature, and I’ve been all over the United States as a writer hitting various conventions, and let me tell you what I’ve learned: Readers are readers. They don’t divide themselves into camps based on a perceived difference in brainpower. A lot of the same folks who read Oprah’s Book Club recommendations also read both James Patterson and Zora Neale Hurston. Many of the same folks who read Mickey Spillane on their Kindles also read Ambrose Bierce and Flannery O’Connor on them as well.

They Go Together Better Than Macs and PCs
(or even Marvels and DCs)

If you’re my age, you remember those commercials where one guy was a Mac and another was a PC and they argued about who was better (which were later parodied for Marvel and DC). Well, I’ve had that same experience, but with pulp and literature. Literally. I’ve had some editors and writers tell me there’s no room for literary techniques in pulp, that pulp should merely be fast and free of any style or technique.

I daresay, those folks seem to have forgotten H.P. Lovecraft, Raymond Chandler, and Ray Bradbury. They crossed and re-crossed the great literary divide, and their stories live on not in spite of their craft and technique but because of them.

“I think you have to look at other genres that have often been seen as the opposite of art—science fiction, fantasy, superheroes, etc. All of these at one time or another have been considered trash fiction. But then you've had people who have elevated those genres to new heights—people like Ursula K. LeGuin, Kurt Vonnegut, Philip K. Dick, Isaac Asimov, J.R.R. Tolkien, Frank Herbert, Grant Morrison, Warren Ellis, etc.” says Constantine.

The "New Pulp" Openness

In the interest of keeping us all on the same page (as the saying goes), let’s first clarify what New Pulp is. According to Pro Se Press, one of the leading publishers of the genre (or style, depending on who you ask), new pulp is “fiction written with the same sensibilities, beats of storytelling, patterns of conflict, and creative use of words and phrases of original pulp, but crafted by modern writers, artists, and publishers. New stories with either completely original characters or new tales of established characters from Pulp past. It’s really that simple. New pulp is pulp written today.”

There are several schools of thought within the New Pulp movement. One looks to do little more than telling new stories of classic characters. Another looks to create new characters that are primarily reminders or pastiches of those classic characters. Still others seek to take the tropes and style of classic pulp and bring those types of stories kicking and screaming into contemporary fiction (regardless of the time period and settings of the tales themselves). I’m not going to say any of those is better than the others, but I will admit to being firmly entrenched in that third group.

Where do we stand now? Percival Constantine again hits the nail on its proverbial head. “I'm not going to stand here and say that all pulp is filled with complex characters, intricate plots, and well-crafted prose because that would be a lie. In fact, probably a majority of the classic pulps are pretty bad. The plots are simplistic, and the characters are flat or stereotypical (especially where women and minorities are concerned). But you know what?” he continues. “That's true of pretty much any genre. Have a look at the literary fiction section the next time you're on Amazon or in a bookstore and flip through some of the books. There's a lot of stuff that tries to use pretension to cover up for ham-fisted dialog, extremely purple prose, and a lot of navel-gazing.”

Within that new generation of pulp writers there are numerous characters and settings being created that may or may not stand the test of time like Phillip Marlowe or The Shadow, but folks like Derrick Ferguson, Barry Reese, and Percival Constantine are still doing their damndest to make that happen and fill the world of pulp fiction with something different—but not too different, unless, of course, you're talking about the caliber of writing.

So, I asked them a bit about how they create New Pulp held to a higher standard. Here’s what I was able to glean from them.

The Facts, Ma’am, Just the Facts

No more ideological stuff. You want the how-to. Well, thanks to some of the modern masters… here it is.

1. Don’t try so hard.

“The best advice I can give for looking to create some kind of lasting art?” says Ferguson. “Don’t even try.”

Barry Reese echoes the sentiment: “I don’t really spend a lot of time thinking about such things. I write what I want to read, and a lot of times, that’s escapist entertainment.”

True art hides itself. That’s what I’ve been taught my whole life as a storyteller. You may have heard that same idea translated this way: The author should seek to hide himself or herself so he or she doesn’t distract the reader. In the best art, that intentional invisibility will refuse to be hidden. One needs no more than to look at Monet’s paintings or Michelangelo's David to see that. Or perhaps to read The Great Gatsby or the poetry of Langston Hughes. The difference is that the art comes after, not before. The work comes first.

But be careful, cautions Ferguson. “That doesn’t mean I’m saying don’t try to produce the best art that you are capable of producing. You should always strive to tell the best story you can in the best way you can. What I am saying is that there’s madness in sitting down at your keyboard and pronouncing to the world ‘I am going to create art!’”

2. Be true to your characters. 

Derrick Ferguson

One of the tenets of both literature and genre fiction that adherents can agree on over the chasm is this: Character is king. Without the consistent personalities behind them, protagonists like The Spider and Doc Savage wouldn’t have become so important to so many fans in the same way that without a well developed personality, Hemmingway’s existentialist heroes wouldn’t have influenced decades of readers, writers, and filmmakers.

The difference comes in how literature and genre decide illustrate and create characterizations.

Constantine says, “Pulp is, in its simplest distillation, fast-paced, action-oriented fiction. That doesn't mean you can't have characterization in there as well.”

Characterization comes from what your characters do and say in pulp fiction, not in what they think and pontificate about, according to Ferguson: “As so often happens in fiction and especially pulp, you gotta figure out what works for you and how you can best convey characterization while your heroes are running around trying to stop the big bad from blowing up the world.”

3. Say something about the world around you.

Here’s something folks don’t always think about in their writing. It gets down to that amorphous notion called “theme.” Like in the first point (Don’t try so hard.), theme is one of those things that most often is distilled through the writer’s views and ideals without really thinking about it. That said, however, it never hurts to look at (or back at) your work to see what you are saying beyond just Character A punched Character B.

In my own work, it is not just important to me, but vital to the understanding of Rick Ruby that the multi-colored, but still race-embroiled, world in The Ruby Files be communicated in the stories. I’m not using a Phillip Marlow pastiche to try to make a point about racism, but I’m determined to show the world as it was and let readers figure things out for themselves.

Likewise, Ferguson’s Dillon can at first be seen as a black version of Doc Savage, but the comparison stops at the surface. What the author says through the adventures of Dillon is what’s important, and goes far beyond the idea of “Wouldn’t it be cool to have a black Doc Savage?”

“Great literature not only features developed characters and skillful prose but is also a commentary on the society it was written in,” says Constantine. “That doesn't mean you hammer readers over the head with it, but you have to look at the world in which you're living, think about what you want to say in regards to it, and find a subtle way to relay that message through your fiction.”

He cites the recent Black Panther movie, with its “really serious and complex themes about colonialism and globalism” as an example.

4. But don’t be so obvious about it.

Remember that bit about art hiding itself? It’s worth repeating, particularly in pulp fiction. Find ways to write complex characters and themes in simple, subtle ways.

Ferguson has a method that works for him—using the movement between settings to get to know anything about his characters the action might not show.

“Plenty of time characterization is done as my heroes are traveling in vehicles from Point A to Point B,” he says. “Let me provide you with an example from a popular movie: there’s a scene in the movie Silver Streak where Gene Wilder and Richard Pryor are in a stolen fire-engine red Jaguar racing to save Jill Clayburgh from Patrick McGoohan, and they’re exchanging what is some pretty meaningful dialog about their relationship, the situation they’re in and how they’re going to save Jill Clayburgh. It’s a nice scene with characterization but it’s done in a moving car that is taking them from one action scene to the next. The movie slows down to provide us with characterization but the actual plot doesn’t slow down and carries the promise that we’re going to see more action once to get to where we’re going.”

5. Keep it moving while you do all that.

Hot on the heels of the previous point, it’s important to keep pulp fiction movie moving along at a good pace and speed. There’s little room (none, some might say) to admire the mountains between Hobbiton and Mordor in pulp fiction. Nor is there time to lie down in the grass and dreamily point out cloud animals. Something needs to be happening. (Notice the tense of that sentence. I didn’t say “Something needs to happen.” I said: “Something needs to be happening.” Ongoing. It doesn’t really stop.)

Reese says it’s all based in the definition of pulp, as he sees it. “Pulp, to me, is about fast-paced adventure. I can deliver that while also giving you three-dimensional characters. Indiana Jones is a good example of what can be done with new pulp. He’s nuanced, but his adventures are thrilling to watch (and read—some of the licensed novels are excellent).”

Ferguson agrees:

“Writers of pulp knew the secret of having genuine characterization in their work long ago. You can do characterization and have sparkling, meaningful dialog and solid supporting casts and all those things that literary fiction prides itself on in the most action-packed of stories. Here’s the catch: Don’t stop the action to do all that stuff. 

“Let me clarify. Action doesn’t mean that you have to have constant fist-fights, explosions, cliffhangers, the heroes continually escaping fates worse than death or chases and captures. Although if you are writing pulp, I would certainly hope that you do have all that stuff in there. After all, what’s the point of writing pulp if you don’t? It’s like making a ham sandwich without the ham. But in pulp, the plot always has to be going forward. You simply cannot stop the thrust of the plot to indulge in a three page introspective passage when your heroine is supposed to be saving the world.”

To put it in terms those who have attended one too many writer’s conventions can appreciate, don’t let the writer chew the scenery.

6. Realize that not all “art” is as good as some writers and critics think it is.

Percival Constantine

This one gets back to the heart of our two things to get straight. (You haven’t forgotten them already, have you?)

#1—Literature doesn’t trump genre.
#2—There’s no such reader as the average dum-dum.

Just because a section in the bookstore is called literary fiction doesn’t mean the books there are better than everything (or even anything) else in the rest of the store. Nor does it mean it’s intrinsically good at all. Literary fiction is based on a set of rules for storytelling just like genre fiction is based on a set of rules for storytelling just like comic book writing is based on a set of rules for storytelling just like… Well, you get the point.

“The problem with the ‘literary debate’ is that you're not actually having the right conversation,” says Constantine. “Not all great literature is literary fiction. And I come at this from both sides, because not only am I a pulp writer, but I also teach literature.”

“One thing I’ve noticed with most writers whose work has stood the test of time and transcended whatever genre it was created for,” Ferguson adds, “is that most of them did not set out to create art. They simply wanted to tell a good story, maybe make a couple of bucks on the side and entertain themselves. A good deal can be said for writers simply relaxing and having some fun with writing. And it can be a whole lot of fun if you let it be.”

As the vernacular goes these days, “You do you.”

7. Literary techniques and genre techniques are the same techniques.

Never thought you’d hear that, huh? When it comes to writer’s toolboxes, there isn’t a fancy mauve one for literary writers and a beat-up, tried and true rust bucket for genre writers. (Unless you paint your own, of course. In which case you can mauve your heart out.) And if you open either toolbox, you’ll find the same tools in each. You’re no doubt familiar with them already:

• Dialog
• Pacing
• Characterization
• Point of View
• Grammar
• Breaking Grammar
• Research
• Setting
• Word sounds
• World building
• Connotation and Denotation
• Figures of speech
• Spelling
• Intentional Misspelling
• And so on…

When it comes to pounding in a nail, a hammer is a hammer is a hammer. Whether you’re building a shed or a mansion, the tool remains the same.

Conclusion—It Either Works for You or It Doesn’t

So, where does this leave us? Are you ready to take your action stories into the world of literary approaches? Or do you prefer to just sit in your office and make Character A punch Character B in the face? Then do it.

Are you tired of critics or other writers trying to tell you your genre writing is something less than their highbrow art? Ignore them.

Are you tired of reading poorer quality stories in your chosen genres? Move past them and write something better.

The genre doesn’t matter. It just “comes down to writers willing to go that extra mile to elevate the genre,” says Constantine.

=================================

For more information about Barry Reese, Derrick Ferguson, and Percival Constantine, please visit their websites.  

If you want more about Literary Pulp, go read the companion piece to this article. 

#MotivationalMonday -- Art, Truth, and Reality

Art is pointless...

The Writer Will Take Your Questions Now #308 -- Arting and Selling

Is there a difference between writing for art and writing to sell? What is it (or what are they)?

I believe this is a vast difference, but I also believe the two intersect as well.

What do I mean by that? Well, I'll give you two examples, each an inverse of the other.

Example #1: When I take a writing gig for a publisher who is paying for a story, such as for the Zombies vs. Robots story I did for IDW, I have to write to the specification that the publishers gives me, regardless of what my art dictates. If the publisher wants 7000 words and I feel the "true" story needs 11,000 words, then I have to save that "true" story for something else and come up with a new 7000 word story instead. The same goes for other criteria too. In fact, I have a publisher who despises first person accounts, so that artistic tool is taken out of my toolbox when I work for that publisher. However, within the constraints of that 7000 word story, my goal is to write the most artistic story I'm capable of creating.

Example #2: For my short story collection Show Me A Hero, I entered the stories fairly unhindered. Almost everything was up to my artistic discretion. Story length, experimental formats, POV, tense, etc. I had a full and ready artistic toolbox from which to choose my colors and brushes (so to speak). However, I also had a little voice of reason in the back of my head telling me that in order for a collection of literary-focused super hero stories to sell to the public, I'd better make the decision to reign in some of the more "out there" ideas and put colors and brushes away for this project. I had to self-limit my art in order to make the finished canvas more likely to be successful.

So yes, writing for art's sake can be freeing, and writing for sale's sake can be limiting, but the two can comfortably co-exist within a writer who strives to write the best stories within the parameters the market has officially or unofficially set.

I'll leave it with this analogy: If I want to write a Shakespearean sonnet, then I can't write a 20-line poem without rhyme. If I do, it ceases to be a sonnet. However, within those 14 lines, I can write the best rhyming poem with ending couplets that I can create.

And that, my friends, it the art of selling fiction (or perhaps the knack of selling art -- take your choice).